Bound and Fondled: Carly

Carly stretches across the table, wrists lashed behind her back and pulled tight to her ankles. Rope bites into her thighs, pulling her legs apart until the tendons stand out. A fat red ball gag sits behind her teeth, straps digging into her cheeks. The cop leans over her, one gloved hand on her hip, the other sliding up to cup her breast through the thin shirt. Her nipples stand hard. He squeezes, rolls, then pinches hard enough to make her breath hiss around the gag. She writhes but there’s nowhere to go. The rope holds. He keeps touching her—slow, deliberate—while she strains and sweats. He doesn’t speak. She can’t. The only sounds are her muffled grunts and the creak of the bonds as she pulls.